


No Teacher's Pet

by pureleaf



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Back to School, Diary/Journal, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Professor Michaelis, Short One Shot, Teacher-Student Relationship, The Author Regrets Everything, autumn sebaciel week, ciel is 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 11:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20777921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pureleaf/pseuds/pureleaf
Summary: Just another student!Ciel teacher!Sebastian short fic.





	No Teacher's Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Song Inspo: Teacher's Pet - Melanie Martinez
> 
> Caught the teacher giving his eyes to a student  
Pouty, pretty cute, and she bit her lip back to him  
Chewing on her nails and her pens while she's dreaming of him  
And he's fucking in sin

** _Monday, September 2nd _ **

It was the first day of my last year in high school, and they ran out of chocolate fudge pop-tarts. I would have been in a sour mood for the remainder of the day if it wasn’t for my AP literature professor, Mr. Adonis himself, standing in front of the blackboard in his statuesque glory. I’ve never seen a teach wear _ that _ tight of dress pants before. His hair was obsidian, slicked back with expensive gel, probably, loose strands tucked behind the glasses resting above his ears. I could hear Lizzy and her friends giggle to themselves when they heard him speak, _ ‘omg he is so hot’, _they would whisper, and they weren’t wrong. Professor Michaelis had everyone’s attention, including mine. His mahogany eyes reflected off of the glass, and I could have sworn he was staring at me while we were reading George Orwell. 

** _Wednesday, September 4th _ **

Fudge pop-tart has been secured on this chilly day. I wore the absolute wrong outfit; not-so-modest shorts with emerald, calf-high socks, paired with a matching, loose shouldered, cropped sweater. I sat through every class shaking like the falling leaves, goosebumps covering every inch of my legs. I swear I caught Mr. Michaelis’ eyes on me again, this time on my exposed skin, and my goosebumps were there for an entirely different reason. I’m not crazy, I know he’s been staring me down. Did I do something wrong? Maybe he thinks I’m annoying, which wouldn’t be the first time a teacher felt that way. Lizzy and I tend to get ourselves in trouble, but both she and I have been utterly focused on Sir Sexy-Pants. But why is he so focused on me? 

His skin looks like creamy caramel candy. He looks so young, without a flaw in sight. I wonder how old he is? Couldn’t be older than 30.

** _Tuesday, September 10th_ **

Today was a hot one for sure. Lizzy and I ate lunch outside -- mini corndogs, watermelon, and grape soda -- and we laid in the grass. We picked at the blades and gossiped about Lizzy’s new crush, Bard, some big, scruffy, blonde jock she drools over every day. I don’t know what she sees in him. I sit behind him in Chemistry and he always smells like cigarettes, but she _ adores _this asshole. He made fun of my tank top today. He called me a slut. I didn’t tell Lizzy. 

I threw on a backup sweatshirt I keep in my locker, walked to AP Lit, and felt unbearably hot. The sweat was unreal, it was like being trapped in a sauna. I don’t know why I let hot, dumb jocks make me feel this way, but the word _ slut _ kept ringing in my head. I could hardly focus on the analysis of _ 1984, _so when we split off into groups, I went straight to Mr. Michaelis’ desk. I probably looked like a prize-winning pig with sweat beading around my neck and hairline, eyeliner messy, smudged, and smelling riper than a rotten pomegranate. He asked me if I was feeling well after looking me up and down. I kept my face toward his leather shoes, but I couldn’t help my gaze from lifting to his lengthy fingers on his knees. He wasn’t wearing a ring. 

** _Friday, September 20th_ **

I can’t believe how much homework I have to do this weekend. Aren’t weekends supposed to be our break during the week? Instead, I have to study all day and night Saturday and Sunday for the AP Lit test on Monday, and then a bunch of online assignments for the other five classes I’m taking. I’m exhausted, but I feel like I shouldn’t be. I thought senior year would be a breeze, and clearly that isn’t so. To make matters worse, I received a C- on my paper over _ 19fucking84. _ Now, my grades are plummeting and I have to suffer with a tutor. Why is this necessary? Just because I got _ one _bad grade, now I’m stuck in our tutoring program for the rest of the semester. Thanks a shit ton, Mr. Beefcake. 

** _Monday, September 23rd_ **

It’s official, I hate my fucking life. I woke up late today and had to rush out of the house wearing sweats with my hair an unkempt mess. Of course, Lizzy had to comment on my bad breath as I was panting in our homeroom from sprinting (and getting yelled at) down the hall. As the day progressed, I was feeling more anxious for it all to be over with. The AP Lit test became achingly aware in my mind, not to mention the tutor that I would have to meet with every Monday and Wednesday. When I trudged to the last class of the day, Mr. Michaelis was towering outside the entrance in the hall. 

_ Ciel, I will be tutoring you for this class. We will go over your test today. Good luck. _

First of all, what the fuck?? Second of all, why the fuck would he tell me this _ right _before I took the test? I was nervous as hell, and that bastard was staring at me again! I’m not crazy, I’m not! I looked up at the clock above his desk and made uncomfortable eye-contact with that smug, incredibly hot piece of.. UGH! 

After everyone turned in their scantron, Mr. Michaelis dismissed the class, but _ of course, _had to announce: 

_ Phantomhive, can you see me in my office, please? _

** _Thursday, October 10th _ **

I’ve learned a few things after beginning my tutoring sessions. For one, Mr. Michaelis’ name is Sebastian, and he really likes it when I call him by his name. Second, my hands shake when he leans in close to my ear to recite John Keats, and I can feel myself hardening in my jeans. Third, Sebastian smells _ really good _ , like cinnamon and pine trees. I’ve confirmed that I wasn’t crazy after all, that Professor Michaelis _ does _pay close attention to me. That he has to clear his throat and loosen his tie when I step into his office, and when my knee brushes his thigh, he tenses. I have learned all of these things and yet understand nothing of AP literature. 

** _Tuesday, October 24th _ **

It wasn’t my fault, it couldn’t have been… right? It just… happened. 

Mister Sebastian was upset that I wasn’t improving enough, said I needed to learn my lesson. The problem is, I _ really _liked my punishment. I wanted to be bad, to receive lousy grades just so I could be alone with him twice a week. 

It wasn’t my fault, he is just as much to blame as me. He liked bending me over his desk just as much as I did. 

** _Wednesday, November 13th_ **

He makes me feel absolutely filthy and I fucking love it. I began seeing Mr. Michaelis more often, any excuse I could find to get him cornered. He always locks the door and plays Johann Pachelbel as he guides me to my knees. I couldn’t fit the whole length of his cock in my mouth at first, but he taught me how to take it all with ease. He used his foot to rub me through my pants, and I would quietly beg for him to fuck me. 

_ Baby boy, I think it’s time for your lesson. _

** _Friday, November 15th_ **

Sebastian slammed me against the wooden office door, mouth attacking my throat and nibbling on my ear lobe. He stuffed four fingers in my mouth and I lewdly sucked on them, being sure to coat every inch in glistening spit. He used those digits to stretch me open, circling them around that special place he says only he can touch. With strong arms, he kept me hoisted up against the wall so he could push himself inside me. My head hurts now, still aching from being repeatedly smacked against the drywall as he thrust his thick cock in and out. He growled into my throat as he spurted hot, sticky seed inside me and pulled out to insert a vibrating buttplug. I screamed when he turned it on, could feel his come dripping down my thighs as he finished me off with his sweet mouth. He told me to be a _ good boy _ in class today. 

When Lizzy and I talked during our silent reading hour, the vibrating started again. I clutched my desk for dear life, stifling my whines into my hoodie. She asked me what was wrong and Sebastian chuckled to himself. I will have to get back at him for today. 

** _Thursday, December 12th_ **

Sebastian hasn’t been in his office for a few weeks now. The last time we made love was two Saturdays ago during our high school basketball game. He took me into the teacher’s lounge and sat with his legs spread on the leather couch. His hands gripped my hips as I bounced in his lap. I like watching his head sway side to side, like hearing him curse and say my name under his breath, and I especially like when he calls me baby. I want him so bad, all the time. I bite my lip in class and delicately trace my hands around my bulge just hoping he notices, hoping he takes me back to his office. I want to yell at him, want him to pay attention to me again. I don’t want him to take his eyes off of me. I can’t tell anyone and it’s killing me. It hurts me to know that he can walk away from this and I can’t. I miss him so badly, would let him destroy me, would let him do whatever he wanted. He grew roses in my lungs and the thorns splintered inside my chest. I can still feel his touch ghosting around my neck, my hips, my fingers and toes. It electrocutes the hair on my nape, and I lull my entire body to the sounds of Canon in D Major. I think I truly loved him in secret, the way a shadow burrows in the soul, like a certain fragrance seeping into me from the darkness hiding what could have bloomed. I loved him without knowing how, and I think I will feel hollow until he touches me again. 

** _Monday, January 6th_ **

_ Hello senior students! I’m Professor Alice Lovegrove and I will be your new AP Literature teacher… _

I would have thrown up, would have run out of the room with smoke following my stomping steps to find that asshole. I would have lost my collective fucking mind if it wasn’t for an unknown number lighting up my phone before I had the chance. When I swiped my thumb across the screen, a short message was left for me to read. Just five words that were enough to break my heart and make it thump at the same time. 

_ Meet me in my office. _


End file.
